Instinctive Travels: The 41st Hunger Games
by CelticGames4
Summary: 24 tributes were reaped from the Districts to participate in the 41st annual Hunger Games. NOT a SYOT, but the readers can still totally read and YOU CAN SPONSOR TRIBUTES! Who will win these Games? The readers will help decide!
1. Meet the Tributes I

_**A/N: Welcome, welcome, welcome! To the FORTY FIRST HUNGER GAMES! For all those who read my first sponsor fic, welcome back, but it's never too late to read and get points! This is NOT a SYOT, all these characters were made by me, but all of you are able to sponsor! The points from my first story (Voices) will transfer, but my prices are pretty cheap, so feel free to come and review and get points! The story starts Day One of the Games, and all 24 Tributes will get a small POV, then it's up to you to pick your favorites. I split them up with 8 per chapter. I used a random generator to decide the POV order so it goes in no specific order of tributes! To get points, check out the system at the bottom! Thanks for reading this extremely long AN! **_

_**P.S. THIS CHAPTER IS REALLY LONG BUT I PROMISE ONCE I'M DONE WITH INTROS THE CHAPTERS SHOULD BE CONSIDERABLY SHORTER! **_

* * *

_Arrogance is nothing unless you have the skill to back it up._

**REGINALD'S POV**

Captain Reginald Holloway.

Brother. Son to a single mother. Acquaintance. Training partner. Fisher.

District 4 male tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.

A Career. Quiet but clever. Proper. Observant. Smart. Reaped, but determined.

Short, brown hair. Sea-green eyes. Tall. Skinny. Not usually wearing a smile. Just a little physical description.

My dream was to follow in the footsteps of my family and join the Capitol's Secret Regiment later in the year. My Dad is always away from the house, leaving me with my Mom. I wanted to join the ranks with him. Hence why I embrace the title of Captain that I got back home in District 4.

From my very limited training with guns, I know how to at least shoot a target with a projectile, which is why I want a bow and arrow when we get out there.

Nobody in District 4 volunteered for me when I got reaped, which is a little unfortunate considering they won't want a Victor running around in a secret Capitol Organization.

I suppose winning the Hunger Games is an honor in itself, but to me it'll barely ever be the same. After all, you don't get medals for that. And we all know that I appreciate medals. And if you don't know, I promise that you'll find it out pretty quick.

The One girl, Candle, stands immediately next to me. On the other side, the boy from 12.

I won't elaborate on the Arena _too _much, but it's unlike anything I've ever seen. It looks as if we've just been thrown into a child's toy box. I wasn't sure what to expect, but in a million years, I would've never been able to guess this.

The clock hits 20 and I give a nod to Candle next to me, looking for the other members of our alliance. One thing I've found that Candle, Fabian, Laurentina, and especially Pride have in common is their arrogance. They all claim that they're superhuman, that they can do anything that's thrown at them. But, come on, every human has their faults. And arrogance is nothing unless you have the skill to back it up. A lot of them don't.

I try to be humble outwardly, and not too arrogant inside either, but when it comes down to raw skill, words will disappear and I will win the Hunger Games.

* * *

_It's all unfair. But there's nothing we can do about it now. _

**RHETT'S POV**

Rhett Wimberly.

Best friend. Loving son. Coworker.

District 5 male tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.

Unafraid to speak out. Bold. Loud. Strong-willed, but not violent.

Pale skin. Brown eyes. Blonde hair. Short, small, only 12. Reaped unfairly.

I hate the Hunger Games. I hate the Capitol. I've been saying that for days and days, weeks and weeks, years and years of my life. I already don't like this, I've never liked it, I never will like it. The Arena's just a load of crap, just like the Games. It's annoying, bright and colorful, all made of scratchy wood that'll only splinter us up.

The clock is ticking away the seconds of all our lives at a pace that seems way to fast. They have to have hijacked it, those can't be real seconds. They go faster and faster as the final minute of our lives ticks on and on and we stand on our stupid metal plates, preparing to kill each other.

The others are annoying and I won't ally with any of them. I'm going to die helplessly and District 5 is going to go nuts about my death. I can feel it. I didn't even care to train because I already know I'm going to die day one. I don't even care about getting supplies because I'm going to die. There is no hope. I'm only 12 years old, after all.

I can't believe this is happening! I can't believe anyone would be Ok with doing something like this! Life is so unfair to me, a poor little boy from District 5 with no hope left! My whole life has been nothing but unfair, having to work for money and having to study stupid crap at school, and now being doomed by these Hunger Games!

It's all unfair.

But there's nothing we can do about it now. If only our stupid ancestors had thought well enough to actually _win_ the rebellion when it happened. If only the kids of the stupid Games would've stopped them from happening with peace. But, no. Now we're here, and I'm gonna die because of all them. Thanks a lot.

Then I watch my last seconds tick away, drowning in self-pity for the 12-year-old who is going to die when that gong rings.

* * *

_I might be stronger than they all think. Underestimation is key. _

**TIERRA'S POV**

Tierra Morrison.

Best friend. Loving daughter of a single father. Instructor. Harvester.

District 11 female tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.

Quiet. Polite. Obedient. Strong but shy.

Dark skin. Dark hair. Brown eyes. Tall. Slender.

There was always a lingering fear that I would be reaped into the Games, but it is considered normal back home at District 11. Nobody wants to be here, and yet here we are. And, in an almost completely artificial Arena, it appears that any skills with nature are going to be rendered completely useless. Which means that I'm out of skills already. It's hard to _not _know about nature when you live in 11.

You're surrounded by nature every day back home. If you want to have fun, you go outside and explore. It's where we work, it's where any social gatherings or District meetings are held, and it's where everything is. Inside has nothing compared to outside. Sometimes, someone gets lucky enough to be able to smuggle a couple seeds and "accidentally" plant a berry bush in their yard. The only concern is whether or not it's safe to eat. This knowledge is passed from generation to generation, often serving as important life lessons.

Edible plants is usually something that comes naturally. Often, District 11 tributes like me know even more secrets about plants than they teach at Training. It's probably our only advantage in the Arena, unless you're one of the heavy-workers that's had time to build strength. I was never allowed to do any of that work: I'm much too thin and "fragile."

What nobody knows is that I might be stronger than they all think. Underestimation is key for those tributes from the outer Districts. If I can just get them to overlook me enough, I can hopefully fly by unscathed and return just in time for the final battle. As for who it's against, I'm not sure who I think it'll be. Hopefully it's someone I can defeat without the help of the Capitol.

Then again, from exploring in 11, I've also gotten good at running from mutts.

* * *

_I may look cute, have a cute name, and embroider the most beautiful pillows for you, but it doesn't mean I'm squeaky clean._

**LIANA'S POV**

Liana Finley.

Sister. Daughter. Friend. Seamstress.

District 8 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Deceiving. Quiet. Refined. Petite. Sell alcohol at the black market, but never been drunk in my life.

Fair skin. Blonde hair. Brown eyes. Tall. Normal-weight.

I'm probably the last person in District 8 you would expect to run a booth at the black market. But in reality, well, looks can be deceiving. I may look cute, have a cute name, and embroider the most beautiful pillows for you, but it doesn't mean I'm squeaky clean. If anything, it should probably make you more suspicious.

By day, I'm just a lowly seamstress with a pretty smile that makes the most beautiful creations with lace. By night, I can hook you up with whatever drugs you could possibly need, but not without selling you a bottle of booze first. It may be gross, especially the people that I have to deal with, but I'm well-off. I've never been _starving, _even if I have spent a night or two in my day hungry, and I only got caught once and whipped. The experience was awful, but I think it's worth the extra money I make.

I certainly make more selling alcohol that I'll ever make working as a seamstress. The conditions are god-awful and we're _extremely _underpaid. Even when I finish a creation, it gets sent off to the Capitol to be bought and somehow I only get one coin for it, with our boss keeping for himself and the Capitol keeping their share.

My creations are so carefully done that it tricks people into thinking that's how I get all the money I have, with expensive creations. And that's what they'll always believe, especially the Capitol.

When I'm a Victor, well, I guess my regulars'll have to find some other place to get drunk at, because as soon as I come out of the Arena, I'm giving up my business forever.

My Victor's talent will be sewing, and that's all anyone will ever know of the person I was before the Games.

* * *

_That means that now, I have nothing to lose. _

**LINCOLN'S POV**

Lincoln Frazier.

Son. Friend. Cousin. "Freak."

District 6 male tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.

Small. Skinny. Starving. Short. Teased. Dysgraphic. Dyslexic. "Stupid."

Tan skin. Curly brown hair. Sweet brown eyes.

Yes, I'm from the District of transportation: 6. But I hated it there. I dunno what it is; if it's something about my dysgraphia _and _dyslexia, or something about how I suck at sports, something about the people I call my friends, or something about my interest in animals, but whatever it is gets me bullied by almost everyone.

Their favorite word to use is _stupid. _I think it's because I have the reading level of a _fourth grader_ and I'm 13. It's because District 6 is probably the trashiest place to live in when you can't learn and nobody has as much as a _remote_ program for kids that have trouble learning. It's because kids around here either get reaped into the Hunger Games or leave school to go work in a factory. Factory work is dangerous, with long hours from dawn to past sunset, and not to mention it doesn't pay much at all!

I was almost doomed to that fate; I was going to have to go to work as soon as I turned 14, which is actually much younger than the other kids that go to work as teens, but I can't do any good in school, and we need food. We're starving.

But now I guess I'll either die in the Arena and I'll be gone forever before I can think about it, or I'll come home victorious and be the among the only people in the whole District that lives in luxury. I'd never have to work. Maybe I could actually get a pretty good education. Not to mention that not a soul would dare to call me names ever again. I could help who I wanted, too. I could help my cousin Calix. Or my best friend Roth. They could come live with me in the Victor's Village. Roth could get away from those parents he hates. Cal could get out of that orphanage.

That means that now, I have nothing to lose. I have to win the Hunger Games.

_I already know that I'm doomed. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't make an impact. _

* * *

**NOLAN'S POV**

Nolan Rinehart.

Enemy. Bully. Slugger. Drunk. Smoker. Addict.

District 8 male in the 41st Hunger Games.

Tall. Strong but weak at once. Rude. Violent. Addicted to so much shit it's not funny.

Blonde hair that sticks up. Bloodshot gray eyes. Just a huge mess.

I'm 18 and live on my own. As soon as I was able I moved away from my parents. They hated me and I hated them. I'm a lone wolf, on my own. And I plan to be the same way in the Games. When things at home started to get rocky I started spending more and more time in the bad places at 8. I know Liana, she was always the one to talk to if you wanted some addicting substance to get your mind off of things. She's been playing the innocent card, and I can't say I blame her. The Capitol probably loves her.

My money would personally be on her to win. I think she's able to, I think she can do it. Bring District 8 another Victor. Me? I won't last three days. I'm addicted to too many drugs to survive a week without them. Especially in an Arena like this. I already know that I'm doomed. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't make an impact. Back home, everyone's afraid of me. It's only because I give them a reason to be, though. I pick on them, most of the time when I'm drunk (which is a lot), and I seem to have a talent of hurting people, both emotionally and physically. And that's only going to become worse when I have to deal with withdrawal.

But, hey, at least they're skills I can use in the Arena.

* * *

_I am the alpha male. I am the strongest, fastest, and smartest, and nothing will ever stop me. _

**PRIDE'S POV**

Pride Davison.

Loyal boyfriend. Spectacular friend. Loving brother. Wonderful son. District 1's hero.

District 1 male (and future Victor) of the 41st Hunger Games.

Tall. Ripped. Handsome. Popular. Brilliant. Perfectly cocky.

Soft blonde hair. Winning, beautiful blue eyes. Did I mention _ripped? _

The Hunger Games is in my blood. Sure, nobody from my family has _won _exactly, but I'm about to change that: for good. I don't care about any of these tributes back home! I have a sexy girlfriend back home and I'm going to win the Games for her, and for my parents, who are oh-so-proud of me, and for all my friends from the Academy.

What puts me above the others is that I don't care about any of them! I would kill the losers who are my "alliance" day one, except for the fact that then I would have no puppets to manipulate and play with. The point is that I don't have a problem with killing. It's what I've been taught to do from the time I was just two years old to now. I've watched replays of every single Hunger Games, taking tactics into view, and fighting skills. I've spent many long nights at the Academy, being by myself until three in the morning training.

I am ready for these Games. I've put in the work, and I'm already so awesome that I am going to win. Even in our alliance, I am the alpha male. The leader. Because I am the strongest, fastest, and the smartest, and nothing will ever stop me!

They all think they're so good, but none of them are anything compared to me. My whole alliance: along with all the other shitty tributes here in this Arena with us: can just cower in my enormous shadow and hope that I choose to kill them all quickly.

But all they can do is hope.

* * *

_This is a fight to the death, and in fights to the death, there is no room for mercy. _

**JOSIE'S POV**

Josie Tarver.

Friend. Daughter. Prostitute.

District 9 female tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.

Short. Skinny. Busty. Manipulative. Clever to get what I want.

Wavy, light brown hair. Light brown eyes.

District 9 sucks. The days are long and hot, the work hours literally take forever. And I don't get to stop working in the day. I have to spend my nights in some random house of someone I've never met before, exposing my body. That's where I'll wake up. That's where I'll have to try to find the money. That's where I'll have to flee from without waking anyone up. It's a tricky task, and never a fun one. But it's something I've always had to do.

Being a Victor has to be better than the life I've been living now. There are rumors going around the District that Victors are sold into prostitution, but at least, even if that was the case, I wouldn't have to work the next morning. I could just sleep in the days, have sex in the nights. Yeah, it'll suck, but I'd do anything to get out of the life I lived before I got reaped.

TO win the Hunger Games, you have to kill, which I'm actually Ok with. Let's get blood on our hands, why don't we!? Let's manipulate some guys with seduction to get what we want, why don't we!? Just because my life sucks doesn't mean I'm nice. In fact, I'm going to be a total bitch in the Arena, just like I am back home, because this is a fight to the _death, _and in fights to the death, there is no room for mercy. All of these guys are going to die, and I don't give a damn who kills them, though it might be good if it was by my hand.

_Happy Hunger Games. _

* * *

_**A/N: Yay! Alright, so for those of you interested in sponsoring tributes (when the time is right, I suppose), I have the list of what you can do and how many points it will get you! Also, I'll carry over the scores from before. **_

_**Any review you leave on this story will get you 5 points immediately. **_

_**Long reviews with advice and opinions get an additional 5 points. **_

_**A favorite for the story will be 4 points.**_

_**A follow will get you 2 points.**_

_**Leaving a review on another one of my stories will get you 10 points per story.**_

_**Ooo! I also might post concept art for the Arena/characters to Tumblr. A like will be worth 3 points and a reblog will be worth 5. Add a comment and I might give you extra because I really like that stuff… :X **_

_**Also, every chapter, I'm going to ask a question. There are no right/wrong answers, I just really want to know what you think. Answer the question and I'll give you 7 points. **_

_**Speaking of, before scores, HERE is the chapter question: Which two of the POV's above stood out to you the MOST? **_

_**Here are the scores from Voices. BUT IT'S NOT TOO LATE TO GET POINTS! GUESTS ARE WELCOME AS WELL! **_

_**Kate: 121**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 118**_

_**Jess: 219**_

_**Guest: 12**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 60**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_** .Strange: 17**_

_**Wow, that's a lot of words. Thanks if you read them all. Hopefully I'll put Part 2 up soon !**_

_**~Ciao! **_


	2. Meet the Tributes II

_Ever since I was a child, my philosophy has been to hurt, something that will actually prove helpful in an Arena. _

**LUTHER'S POV**

Luther Pultzer.

Brother. Friend. Son.

District 7 male in the 41st Hunger Games.

Tall. Strong. Mean. Cold. Unforgiving. Merciless.

Built to cut down trees, with dark brown hair that gets in my fucking eyes ever ten seconds. Dark eyes that are nothing to everyone.

I've never seen love a day in my life and I don't think I ever will. I don't know why I should. After all, I've returned all the hate that's been given to me, to not only my family, but also those people I called my friends, and that girl I was dating. Ever since I was a child, my philosophy has been to hurt, something that will actually prove helpful in an Arena.

I take out my anger a lot on the trees that surround District 7. It's how I get my money, which is later wrestled off of me by my parents. Cutting down trees is something I'm good at, it's something that I can manage to do, and it's something I can do instead of taking out the hardships of my life on everyone around me. Since I've started working, I've been a lot better to the people around me, even though a lot of them are still uneasy around me.

I'm currently 17, and now I'm in the Hunger Games, somewhere I never thought I'd have to go. And, though this Arena appears to be made out of wood, there are no trees to cut down. Which means that the only really logical thing here to axe is… The tributes.

I already know that I have a lot building up inside, from all the anger I still have locked up. And I know that, for the next week or so, I'm going to be scary. I'm going to be a murderer of children, and maybe even some people that are older than I am. But no matter what, just for this week, I have to keep going.

I can deal with death-guilt later, when I'm safe at home and a Victor.

* * *

_I'm not a fighter, true, but I'm a thinker, and sometimes, we can be just as dangerous. _

**FAHRENHEIT'S POV**

Fahrenheit Becker.

Daughter. Friend. Girlfriend. Sister.

District 3 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Thin. Average height. Observant. Optimistic. Quiet but able to make friends.

Skinny, because I'm starving. Long, straight chestnut hair. Sky blue eyes.

There's not a lot to say about me because my life actually isn't that interesting. I have two brothers and live a normal life of a teenage girl in District 3. Learning to work in the factories, but luckily for me, I never actually had to work. Went to school, had an education, got straight A's every year of my life.

I'm not a fighter, true, but I'm a thinker, and sometimes, we can be just as dangerous. I like to look on the possible bright side of things, I _could_ win. I have a possible alliance going with the boy from my District. He also talked to the boy from Nine, who was interested. So I have an alliance, hopefully, already. Avogadro is even more brilliant than I am. Ian is a fast runner and also I saw him with a sword and he wasn't actually that bad.

I look down the line of tributes and the girl from Four is next to me. She stares across the assorted, oversized, wooden toys, large green eyes looking very afraid. There's a reason she's not traveling with the Careers. I think she might like to travel with us, if we can convince her. The only problem is that I'm not sure that Avogadro and Ian will go for that. And I also only have 15 seconds to think about it.

I have to be careful who I ally with. Considering I'm not as well-rounded as the Careers, my allies are the deciding factor of whether I love or die.

* * *

_The Games is about more than fighting. To win, you need skills, smarts, friendships in the right places, and a charming smile. _

**FABIAN'S POV**

Fabian Rockwell.

Friend. Brother. Hard worker. Trainer. All-A student.

District 2 male tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.

Future Victor, if everything goes right.

Funny. Nice. Smart. Confident. Great liar. Makes friends easily. Quick to kiss a girl, but a virgin.

Pale skin. Dark hair. I tell people I have a six-pack.

Prefers spears as a weapon.

This is me. Nice to meet you! I hope that we can be friends. Because I have a feeling that you'll probably be the only thing close to a friend that I have in this place called an Arena. My district partner Laurentina is someone I know well from back home. She didn't have to do a lot of work to get into the Games, considering that she's the daughter of a Head Trainer. Even so, she's extremely precise with her knives and I've seen her kill dummies with pretty much every weapon on the planet. Anyways, Laurentina's "nice" to everyone, but I think I'm the only one that really has an idea what she's capable of, and to what measure she will go to in an effort to become a Victor. Last time a Head Trainer's son went into the Games, he won, and I think she wants to be the second.

_Myself _getting the honor to volunteer was unfortunately not as easy. Even though orphans lodge in the Academy, we're _extremely _overlooked. It took a hell of a ton of training, along with studying skills from books, and practicing to no end for _every _aspect of the Games. I ate, drank, slept, _lived _Hunger Games from the moment I turned 12 until this very day, and probably beyond. The point is that I put in a lot of work to get here, and I'm going to continue putting in work to win the Games.

See, I'm confident that I can defeat her, and all the other tributes that are here with me because, unlike any of the others, I've taken the time to find everyone's strong points and weak points, and I intend to use them for my own benefit. The tributes, especially the ones in our alliance, are all real gems, but their problem is that they all only have one real skill. I'm not saying they're not good at whatever that skill might be, but I _am _saying that they're not so keen on anything else. The Games are, after all, about more than fighting. To win, you need skills, smarts, friendships in the right places, and a charming smile.

While the others may have a couple of those qualities, I feel like I have them all, and that's how I intend to pull Victory out of a hat.

Ha, Laurentina'll never see it coming.

* * *

_My life will never be normal again._

**JOCELYN'S POV**

Jocelyn Turner.

Little sister. Best friend forever. Future apprentice. Youngest daughter.

District 7 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Small. Giggly. Happy. Funny. Tender. Loving. Kind.

Tan skin. Brown hair. Big blue eyes.

To be honest, I never really minded my life back at District 7. Maybe it was because I only lived a "normal" life until now. I was chosen on my first reaping, which is extremely bad luck I guess. My life will never be normal again, I already know that. In fact, it's a little insane to think that my time is ticking away. Seconds are flying into the wind and escaping from my fingers, like the autumn leaves that blow around back home.

However my life _does _change, if it ends or if I somehow win the Games and come back, I've had to grow up and mature so much in just a week. Learn to be "proper" from a Capitol person that I didn't get to know personally but hate all the same. Learn how to survive in the middle of nowhere with other kids trying to kill you. Learn how to _wield a weapon. _

Granted, someday in Seven, I would've had to learn how to deal with an axe, but that's completely different because I would be comforted by the knowledge that the axe in my hands would only ever be used on _trees. _

I've tried to find myself an alliance, but nobody's really interested in talking to a naïve 12-year-old girl from District 7. More than anything, I want to talk to the 12-year-old from 5, Rhett, about getting together. The only problem is that he's been staying at least five feet away from everyone, and every time I've tried to talk to him, something came up that he had to flee from the scene. Maybe it's for the best, considering he didn't actually do a lot of training.

The clock hits ten and I realize I can't focus on allies right now. I can't focus on anything but that gold horn in front of me, as the final seconds fly away in the wind.

* * *

_Fear means certain death in a Hunger Games Arena._

**BLANCHE'S POV**

Blanche Tawell.

Older and little sister. Daughter.

District 4 female tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.

Average height. On the skinny side, but not as bad as some of the others. Scared. Paranoid. Insane.

Pale skin from being inside all the time. Golden-blonde hair that is wavy in twenty different ways. Big, green eyes that I wish were smaller.

_Come on, Blanche! Why don't you tell them about us!? _

There are voices. There are voices in my head. I see things, sometimes that other people don't see. I have trouble computing things sometimes. I'm schizophrenic.

_Tick… Tick… Tick… Might want to start running, Blanche! _

My heart-rate picks up and I do everything to stop it. I take deep breaths, trying my absolute hardest not to seem afraid. Fear means certain death in a Hunger Games Arena.

_The seconds are going! Run now! _

There's a chorus of _Run now!_'s. I grab my temples, trying to get them to go away. Just for a minute, I want them to go away. I twitch, my body trying to run off the silver platform. I try not to cry, with everything I have in me. I resist the temptation of the screaming voices to move forward and hold my place.

_Look around yourself, Blanche! What do you see? _

Tributes. So many of them. So many it makes my head ache even worse than it already was originally. My head blares and now my hands firmly grab the sides of my head and I try to get the voices out of my head. I look out around the toys and see my little brother Fritz, out there in the Arena, playing with his favorite toys.

Is it real? Is it real? Is it another of those "hallucinations?" What's going on? Why is he here? Or is he here?

_Where's Fritz, Blanche?! What's going on!? You should find him. _

_Run! _

_Run! _

_RUN! _

I clench my teeth and shake my head, wishing the voices to go away, wishing to not see Fritz anymore unless he's actually there.

My head blares and it hurts. I do everything in my power not to run.

I just hope I can last.

* * *

_I will make a legacy, so supreme that generations and generations will look up to it. _

**CANDLE'S POV**

Candle Scheibel.

Older sister. Daughter to the proudest parents in District One. Ready to make a name for myself.

District 1 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Tall. Stronger than I look, I swear. Confident. Quiet. Proper. Polite. Until it's time to start killing, that is.

Fair skin. Blonde hair that is almost white. Calm, dark blue eyes.

Nobody in my family's ever gotten to volunteer: until now. I'm the first one, and I'm going to be the first one to win. I will make a legacy, so supreme that generations and generations will look up to it. All of them will strive to be as good as me. They'll train for the Games, just like I did. Maybe they'll even take on my training approach: stay quiet, polite, and calm, until it's time for the fight. I don't curse and I definitely don't scream during fights, and I can kill someone so quickly and quietly that they'll be dead before they can scream.

I want our alliance to be nocturnal, and I think that Pride (whose head is going to get so big one of these days that it explodes) agrees with me. Ha, I think he's even going to try and take credit for the idea! Then maybe he'll, uh, have a little _accident _in the woods. None of the other tributes'll have to know.

Nobody needs to know how big of a threat I am. If I stay far enough under the radar, (even though I am a Career, which puts me smack-dab in the spotlight), people might be fooled enough to kill the other "threats" in our alliance before they kill me.

Reginald and I exchange a look and a very polite nod. Man, that guy is tall. Anyways, I have to be confident enough to overlook the others.

This is it. What I've been _dreaming_ of.

And only 23 obstacles stand in my way on the journey to a laurel crown.

* * *

_They expect me to be able to do everything. _

**AVOGADRO'S POV**

Avogadro Bismarck.

Younger brother. Son. Teacher's pet. High marks in school.

District 3 male in the 41st Hunger Games.

Short. Normal weight. Incredibly bright. "Nerdy." Picked on.

Pale skin. Freckles. Flaming ginger hair. Glasses. Bland brown eyes.

The first thing I do when I'm lifted away from my stylist in the main room is take a look around. Much to my despair, Ian and Fahrenheit, my two possible allies, are on the whole other end of the tribute line than me. Fabian, the boy from District 2, is on my right. Lincoln, the boy from 6, is on my right. He looks scared, which isn't surprising considering that he _is _only 13. I know how he feels, because I feel very much the same way. After all, I _am_ just 14, even though some people forget that because I skipped a grade at school.

They say I'm exceptionally smart, but I don't really want to be. I just want to be normal, for once. They call me a "genius," but I don't _want _to be anything more than a 14-year-old boy, that has a limited knowledge of school and useless knowledge, and can have fun without people constantly over his shoulder going off about _expectations_.

They expect me to be able to do everything, and it's extremely stressful for me, because, as I said earlier, I'm only 14 years old!

The only promise I show now is my brilliance. I have all of the techniques memorized, picking up with ease on the words our trainers used to describe the motions of throwing weapons and starting fires and painting: my body's just really awkward and weird and I can't make it do those said motions. I'm a master with plants and berries and I know everything about survival. The problem is that I can't _apply _these skills.

But, just like every other thing I do back in District 3, these Games are coming with a new load of expectations for me to carry.

And even if I fail to reach them, well, I won't have to worry. Because I'll be dead.

* * *

_This place looks way too much fun to be an Arena._

**ANTOINETTE'S POV**

Antoinette Carroll.

Little sister. Daughter to a single father. Best friend. Schoolgirl.

District 12 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Small. Sweet. Kind. Gentle. Not a killer.

Olive skin. Dark, curly, short hair. Gray eyes.

The Arena was made for a child. Wood floors, giant toys. Right by the Cornucopia appears to be some kind of train station. There are giant, colorful blocks that are twice the height of the Cornucopia, and almost twice as wide. They're stacked in all different formations. There are some cube letter blocks that look like some of the taller tributes like Pride and especially Reginald could climb up on. If I could only get up there, who knows? I could get so much farther. Along some of the walls are bright, colorful designs, like clocks and checks. The floor is tiled with a diamond design of red and beige.

I even see a huge rocking horse, in the distance. This is all too weird…

And yet, when I look around, I see some tufts of grass and even some bushes. I wonder if maybe there are berries in those bushes.

This place looks way too much fun to be an Arena. Then again, some of the tributes _are _going to have fun here, killing little children, as young as the twelve-year-olds, and 13-year-olds like myself and I think the boy from 6…

Anyways, the point is that people are actually insane enough to have fun here. I should know, I'm standing next to the girl from District 2 right now and she looks almost rabid with adrenaline and excitement to get out there and take lives.

Take lives… Yay…

Who in their right mind would ever train their kid to take lives?

Maybe it's different for them. Obviously it is; they think this is all Ok because that's how they were all raised. I'm glad that at least, if our District doesn't win every single Games, at least we have _morals._ Even if nobody else in this place does, I have morals. And there's no way that I'm going to fight anyone, no matter who it is, unless they're about to kill _me. _

Because I don't care if I die day one… I refuse to take lives.

* * *

**A/N: Question first, then points. **

**THIS CHAPTER QUESTION: Same as last chapter. Which are your two favorites of these eight: Luther, Fahrenheit, Fabian, Jocelyn, Blanche, Candle, Avogadro, and Antoinette? **

**POINTS:**

_**Kate: 126**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 136**_

_**Jess: 231**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 62**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_**Beauty. Is. .Strange: 33**_

_**Thanks for reading! I LOVE REVIEWS! *hint hint* **_


	3. Meet the Tributes III

_**A/N: I'm trying to get into the habit of PM'ing for each review. I'm very awkward and not good with words so I'm sorry if it's very repetitive. Also, uh… I cannot spell and I'm sorry. For the first couple of chapters I spelled the D3 girl's name "Farenheit," and I totally didn't notice the red squiggly line under it so yeah, I'm sorry. I changed it to the correct spelling on the other documents of the word and that's how it will be spelled from now on! Sorry (gosh, this is why I suck at science…) **_

* * *

_I just hope that my story has a happy ending._

**MICK'S POV**

Mick Evans.

Only child. Friend, to humans and animals (but mostly animals). Trainer. Herder.

District 10 male in the 41st Hunger Games.

Tall. Built like a strong District 10 man, even though I'm barely an adult, just having turned 18 three days ago.

Blonde hair. Brown eyes. A smile that people really seem to like, but I don't exactly understand why.

Unfortunately, Mick is not, in fact, short for anything. My name is four letters long, one syllable, short and sweet: Mick. Back home I rarely see my parents: my dad is out working through the long days and nights, and my Mom finds, uh, _other_ means of getting the family money.

I'd never want to live a life like hers. Especially now.

One son, going into the Hunger Games to possibly face death, leaving behind two dogs, one of which is going to have puppies, probably while he's away. However long he'll be away for. Even with me gone, they have to work through the days and nights, listening to updates on how the Games are going. If I die, my dogs are doomed, considering my parents always hated them. The only reason they continued to feed both of them was for me.

They both really love me. No matter how I do in these Games, they always will. So will Dolce and Carino (those are my dogs). Dolce (for some reason I pronounce it Dol-che) is the girl, and she's a collie that loves to run around and play outside. Carino is a Britany that is extremely energetic. Both dogs tend to get a little over-affectionate, but they're dogs, so of course they would. I don't have a horse that is officially _mine, _but I do have a pinto named Splotch that really likes me (and I really like him too).

That's my story so far. It's not very exciting, I know, unless you really like animals, then I guess it's really nice to meet some. I just hope that said story has a happy ending.

(I'm a real softie for animals, by the way, which could be a problem in the Arena.)

(Then again, we're not in a natural place of any kind, so who knows?)

The clock ticks down and I have to stop thinking now and focus on the Game, not myself. I think that if I can do that for the rest of the week, I could possibly be able to win.

* * *

_I'm lucky I'm average in everything, I guess. Not a stand-out to anyone, in any way. _

**IAN'S POV**

Ian Harper.

Only child. Son to a single mother. Best friend to one person, generally unliked by the rest of the population. Future worker, except for not anymore.

District 9 male in the 41st Hunger Games.

Average height. Skinny. Polite. Sarcastic with stupid people (who I can't stand). Not exceptionally smart, but bright enough to do well in the very little schooling we get.

Short, light brown hair. Bland, pale blue eyes. Very rarely smiling, but people say it's nice when it comes around.

Being from District 9 puts me at a disadvantage, I think. I mean, the Career districts are obviously the most popular, with strong tributes and nasty, arrogant natures to them. Districts 11 and 12 mostly are known widely for being spitting poor, and therefore if you have someone as determined as Tierra or as cute as Antoinette, or even as purely powerful as Salem, they get attention from the Capitol. And the other Districts this year seem to have produced an extremely charismatic group of tributes. The boy from 3 interests me because I think he's smarter than he's been playing around to be. Apparently the girl from his District is going to travel with us, too.

I'm 16, and I'm pretty average in terms of height. I'm definitely not a giant like Reginald, and I'm not a little peanut like the boy from 6 (uh, Lincoln, right?), or even Avogadro. Man, some of the tributes are tiny this year, and some of the others are practically stick figures, including me. It _was _a bad year for everyone this past year. Even a couple of the Careers look skinnier than they usually do, namely Candle and Reginald. These Games are sure going to be interesting.

I look down the line of tributes, lined up in front of the glitzy Cornucopia. I can barely see Avogadro, all I see of the boy in the distance is his bright ginger hair. It's nice for his allies to spot him, but it also means that his enemies will spot him. I'm lucky I'm average in everything, I guess. Not a stand-out to anyone, in any way.

I guess I can live with leaving Avogadro behind, if that's what I have to do to survive, and running off with Fahrenheit. She's nice enough, probably smart enough, too. She gives me a nod and tries a smile as the clock strikes 10.

The possible last ten seconds of our lives.

* * *

_All the time, actually, I really hate the Capitol. _

**PENNY'S POV**

Penny Kasser.

Big sister. Friend. Daughter to two of the actually good parents in District 5.

District 5 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Fairly tall. Definitely not as skinny as some of the others here. Not extremely good at anything in particular, but good enough at everything I've been taught to use a knife and survive out in the wild.

Strawberry-blonde hair. Gray eyes. A wide smile that I force out a lot.

I trained so long and so hard to live out in the wild, against animals, hunting for food, peeing by trees on the ground, painting camouflage, making fires, taking edible berry tests, all to be thrown in an oversized TOY CHEST?! God, you've _got _to be kidding me.

Sometimes, I really hate the Capitol. All the time, actually, I really hate the Capitol. I hate them for my life, how hard they make us work in the Districts and for such little pay, as well, even when there are people who are _teenagers _working their _asses _off instead of going to school, where said teenagers might actually like to go.

Am I ranting again? I am. Sorry.

I have so much negativity that I have to swallow down all the time, and honestly, it gets exhausting. See, I'm the oldest in a house of four children, and the others are all still little kids: Georgy, who's 5, Ivan, who's 7, and Sawyer, who's 9. Before you say it, yes, I know, it's a big age gap. That's a long story that I really don't want to think about as the clock is counting down.

I never, _ever _want it to reach zero.

* * *

_When I win the Games, I'll finally achieve what I've wanted for years and fucking years: solitude._

**SALEM'S POV**

Salem Christenson.

Big brother to a little brat that can't seem to find his place. Feared by all the little twats that I have to deal with on a daily basis.

District 12 male in the 41st Hunger Games.

Average height. Strong. Quiet, unless you piss me off. 110% willing to kill.

Olive skin. Dark brown hair that I never bother to deal with. Dark gray eyes that very clearly symbolize that I'm from the Seam.

I wish I wasn't from the Seam. When I win the Hunger Games, I'll never even have to give that damn place a second look. I can wander the part of town with the blonde-haired, blue-eyed merchants, buy whatever the hell I want to buy for nobody but myself, and finally achieve what I've wanted for years and fucking **years:** solitude.

Unfortunately, I live in a house with a bunch of fucking imbeciles. My Mom is obsessed with having a perfectly loving family. She always yells at me for being "rude" to the other lunatics in there and says that a family doesn't need money if they have _love, _something that makes me puke every time she sees it. Then you have my father, who is almost the same way, only not quite as obsessed. They often call family meetings, with the purpose of trying to "mediate" the problems that I have with my acquaintance at most, even though we are biologically brothers. This often includes them forcing me to apologize for things that he deserves that I don't feel one touch sorry for.

His name's Holland, he's 15, and he keeps saying the brattiest things. If you listened to my brother speak, you might think that he actually means the shit he's saying, but maybe it's just a trick. He cries a good deal: each and every time he says some fucking retarded thing and I sock him in the face: and he thinks that his excuses are valid: and so do our parents. He chose to start drooling after every stupid human being in the District: and no, I don't mean just the girls: just to get the sympathy of our parents. Often, he argues that "just because he fall in love with other genders doesn't mean he sleeps with them," but why the hell else would you choose a life like that?

In short, I hate Holland, and he hates me, so we're even. When I win the Games, the first thing I'm doing is moving into that Victor's Village and never talking to any of them. I think it'll be better for everyone, especially me, which is all that's important.

Let the Games begin.

* * *

_As soon as that gong goes off, it's no longer about how cute, attractive, funny, charming, or nice you are: it's about how well you kill, and how well you survive. _

**REED'S POV**

Reed Hutchcroft.

Little brother. Best friend. Berry picker.

District 11 male in the 41st Hunger Games.

Short. Skinny. Optimistic. Usually happy. Loving to sing.

Shaggy brown hair that usually hangs in my pale green eyes.

I'm still 13. And 13 is really young to be in the Hunger Games. Sure, the Capitol thinks I'm adorable because I'm among the youngest ones here, but that's not going to help me at all anymore. As soon as that gong goes off, it's no longer about how cute, attractive, funny, charming, or nice you are: it's about how well you kill, and how well you survive.

And, I'm not going to be able to do either of those without someone else to help me along the way. I need an ally, and I suppose I'd be alright with anyone, as long as they could help me do the things I can't do on my own (and, of course, I could help them) and we can get along without tearing each other's throats out in the night. Or, uh, more like, _them_ tearing out _my_ throat in the night.

Back home, everyone said that I have a real knack for making friends, but that's just a total curse in the Hunger Games. The point, in fact, is to _not _make friends, because then you'll eventually have to either _kill _that friend or _watch _them die, and that's really scary. It's why I need to make an ally that is older than I am, not my age and certainly not younger. The problem there is that there aren't exactly that many options. I feel like, if I stick to Tierra long enough, she'll let me and we'll team up. That's my goal, I think, because I know that she won't kill me if she sees me, I just know it!

There's that optimism for you. I don't know Tierra at all, and yet I'm quick to put my trust in her, because she's from my District.

And it'll either be a blessing or a curse.

* * *

_I could have these Games done in a day and a half if we weren't forced to put on a show._

**LAURENTINA'S POV**

Laurentina Vandoren.

The most kickass daughter ever. Loyal girlfriend to a boy I hate but makes Daddy happy. Trainer. Student at the Academy. Volunteer.

District 2 female and for-sure Victor of the 41st Hunger Games.

Short but strong. Vicious. Menacing. Victorious at every endeavor. Intimidating. Kick.**Ass**.

Golden blonde hair with dirty blonde highlights. Freckles. Bright, piercingly-blue eyes.

I am going to win. Just because my father never got the opportunity or the privilege to volunteer doesn't mean I'll do anything less than Victory. In fact, it gives me some extra determination to go out there and kick some poor-people ass.

See, Fabian may make me out to be a lazy slob because he's convinced that he's the greatest thing in the world, but what even he doesn't know is that I've been training at the Nate McIalwain Academy of Future Tributes since I was _three years old, _and yes, I do deserve to volunteer. He's just jealous that my father's the Head Trainer at the Academy. In fact, I'd say he's jealous that I _have _a dad. Ha! Filthy orphans!

Fabian's shown me everything he can do, which is surprisingly shabby considering the amount of "hard work and effort" he's supposedly put into it. Even Pride, the schmuck from District 1 that needs to just kill himself, isn't as good at _anything _as I expected him to be! Ha, I thought he was supposed to be better than me at everything! What a loser.

Part of me is just so disappointed that I didn't get put with _anyone _that even remotely seems to be competition. I really got stuck with the rotten eggs, I'd say. I could have these Games done in a day and a half if we weren't forced to _put on a show, _in the words of my mentor. Unfortunately, though, I'm stuck with the losers from One, the boy from Four, and Fabian, until I can either turn on them of just cause minor accidents that result in their painful deaths.

Maybe if I feel merciful, I'll try to make it hurt just a little less.

* * *

_I have to keep going until the very end, whether that means the very end of the Games or the very end of my life. _

**DIANNE'S POV**

Dianne Larson.

Daughter. Sister. Friend. Girlfriend. Factory worker.

District 6 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Tall. Fairly muscular. Quiet. Calm. Not one to panic. Polite. Scared but not one to show it.

Dark hair. Eyes that change colors depending on what I'm wearing so much I can't call it one way or another.

I am not as sweet as my name sounds, I promise you that. And I'm certainly not as nice as you would think I am, considering I learned, (in three days, thank you very much!) how to throw a spear and actually hit a target. It's probably my best asset thusfar in life, and now that I'm in an Arena, it will probably turn out to be an extremely important one. I haven't taken the time to think about allies at all, but now that I look back, I think that I might have to consider it. As to who, well, I guess it just depends on who I end up running into.

Now, if you're curious, I'm strong and not as starved as the others because I work constantly and get an almost-substantial diet, something that's fairly rare in District 6. I'm 16 and have an older brother and a boyfriend at home rooting for me. Whenever I start to give up, I think of them and I keep on going. It's probably the only motivation I have to get home, knowing what the Capitol does to Victors.

Yes, I completely believe the prostitution rumors. Each and every one of them. It's something the Capitol would do, and it's something that I barely want to happen to me. But I do have people to come home to, so I guess I can't give up just yet. I have to keep going until the very end, whether that means the very end of the Games or the very end of my life. I really really _really _hope it's the first one. It will be. It _has _to be.

_10, 9, 8, 7… _

The clock is going too fast.

I want it to stop.

I don't want these Games to happen.

* * *

_It's actually really scary to think about. Killing people…_

**TEEGAN'S POV**

Teegan Jin.

Little sister. Best friend forever and ever. Pretty daughter.

District 10 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Short. Average weight. Bouncy. Energetic. Giggly, usually, but now it's all serious.

Dark red hair that has wide curls. Dark blue eyes to go along with it. Freckles on my nose and cheeks.

Oh, hi there! Hello! Yeah, that's me, up there!

I'm Teegan, I'm 14, and I really really want a dog. My District partner Mick has two of them, and they both have very strange names. He told me once that the names actually mean something to some other group of people somewhere out there that don't speak the same language as we do. Weird, right!? What is that language called again? Gee, I barely remember. Oh, it started with an I, though!

Ok, alright, back on-topic. Hunger Games, right. Killing people, super.

It's actually really scary to think about. Killing people… And the fact that there are a bunch of bozos who think that this is actually fun and that they would all really like to kill people, which is crazy to me, but you know…

So, uh, how about I talk about my family? I have two older siblings: they're twins. There's a boy and a girl, and they're 16. Uh, they're just a teeny bit spoiled by our parents, and I'm just a teeny bit neglected, but, uh it's really no big deal, really. Sometimes I wish twins weren't so special, though. I'd actually like to get some of the meat my family buys. Oh, no, I do, I do, sometimes, on my birthday and other special holidays, I really do.

No worries.

I'll be fine.

I'm always fine.

And I'll be just fine when I brave the ordeals of being a Victor, too.

And I'll be just fine, even if it's with my last dying breath.

* * *

**_A/N: TADA! Alright, that's all the tributes. So, now it's up to you to help me a little! The Cornucopia battle starts next update and now the readers will start being able to participate kind of! Next chapter I'll post the point values for sponsor items and we'll see where it goes from there. Ok, here we are! _**

**_QUESTION: I need one or two tributes that you would like to see make it past Day One, and one or two that you wouldn't exactly mind/want to die._**

**_For reference, here's a list of the tributes: _**

**_ONE: Pride and Candle_**

**_TWO: Fabian and Laurentina_**

**_THREE: Avogadro and Fahrenheit_**

**_FOUR: Reginald and Blanche_**

**_FIVE: Rhett and Penny_**

**_SIX: Lincoln and Dianne_**

**_SEVEN: Luther and Jocelyn_**

**_EIGHT: Nolan and Liana_**

**_NINE: Ian and Josie_**

**_TEN: Mick and Teegan_**

**_ELEVEN: Reed and Tierra_**

**_TWELVE: Salem and Antoinette_**

**POINTS:**

_**Kate: 126**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 136**_

_**Jess: 231**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 62**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_** .Strange: 33**_


	4. DAY ONE: Pride,Blanche,&Avogadro

_Five… Four… Three… Two… One. The Hunger Games has officially begun. _

* * *

**PRIDE'S POV**

I've been waiting for this day for years and years and _years. _

_I remember, all the way back when I was nothing but three years old. I sat on the floor and sucked on my fingers and watched the Hunger Games for the first time. My Mom and Dad were so proud, and they smiled the whole time they showed me the video of the event. From what I saw of it, it was a rerun of the 1__st__ Games. They show that one to the kids first because it's least violent of all of them. Not to mention that the Victor is from One, which is always a good thing back home. I watched the TV so intently that my Dad immediately knew that I would be a Victor someday. From there it was all just an exponential affect. Four, five, six, I'm determined to be a Victor, seven, eight, nine, ten, ready to go into training. From eleven to seventeen, I watched all forty Hunger Games over and over again, and trained with every weapon under the sun. I can name all 40 Victors and give a District for each, as well as name the District 1 boy for each Games. I can even name most of the 1 girls. Age eighteen, I was chosen to volunteer, and now I'm here. And from nineteen to the rest of my life I will be a Victor, no question. _

This is the moment. THIS IS THE FUCKING MOMENT!

As soon as I hear the gong, just like I'd practiced, I spring into action.

And I never thought it would feel this good.

I sprint to the Cornucopia, running easily past all the people happily and arriving first at the golden horn. I take a sword, my favorite of the weapons I tried, and hold it in my hands, taking a moment to savor this. The moment right before my first kill. I see Fabian run over second and we exchange a grin before he runs in the horn and grabs a spear for himself.

The 10 girl skips over and looks afraid, and tries to get a backpack for herself, but I stop her short with a sword through her neck.

My first kill. I take a deep breath, smiling. Finally. I've been waiting at least 15 years, probably closer to 18, for this moment in my life. And it's here. I grin as Laurentina skips over and gets an assortment of throwing knives for herself, and then Reginald, taking a bow and arrow and Candle last, grabbing her double-swords with much satisfaction.

I go on a killing spree, finding and killing the little boy from 6 and the tall girl from 3. Nobody will get past me to our supplies. _Nobody. _

We fight the others until there are no more people except for myself, my allies, and a bunch of dead bodies on the ground.

"I can't wait!" Laurentina says excitedly, "We have to count the bodies _now!" _I like how this girl thinks.

Together, the two of us count the bodies lying on the ground, dead.

I count five, Laurentina counts four, for a grand total of nine.

Fabian especially looks like he might be sick. The loser. I smack the back of his head teasingly, "Come on, big guy. Man up and let's go searching for water."

I take the lead and the others flock after me. I'm the leader and the man of this alliance. Not Man-dle, Reg-twit-ald, Gay-bian, or even Whore-ntina.

Heh. I'm really clever, aren't I? Clever, strong, and sexy as _hell. _

This has been the best day of my life and I think it's only going to get better as the week goes on.

* * *

**BLANCHE'S POV**

As soon as the gong rings my voices and I take off towards Fritz. He disappears suddenly out of nowhere with a scream, causing me to stop and cover my ears with my hands. I scream as I fall forward, feeling a hand squeeze my arm and shake, trying to "snap me out of it," as my Mom says.

I don't understand what they mean when they say things like that. I wish I did. I just recite to people what I've been told my whole life: My name is Blanche Tawell. I am seventeen years old. I am insane. I hear things that other people don't hear, and see things that other people don't see. And now I am in the Hunger Games.

It's a very simple philosophy that I live by, and though I don't understand a lot of it, it's something that I have to continue living with.

I have to keep on surviving, just like every day.

_GET UP BLANCHE!_

_WHAT ARE YOU DOING BLANCHE? _

_RUN!_

_TO THE CORNUCOPIA! _

_NOW! _

They all shout at once. I listen to them, though it is overwhelming. I get up and run towards the golden horn. I get careful as soon as I get near it, and scale the edge, practically refusing to breathe as I try to sneak inside the mouth.

I run straight into Reginald, and he makes a _woup! _noise before staring me in the face.

He was one of the lesser-talked-to people back home, and though he is a whole year older than me, we've got to talking a little, sometimes when we were both sitting by ourselves and the voices were simply whispering in my brain we would have little conversations. But we were never friends.

He stares at me and suddenly holds out a backpack to me.

"Take it," he says, "And run."

I smile a little bit… Can't help it.

"Thank you," I whisper.

He nods and I give the tiniest nod back before I turn around and run off, into the vast beyond.

I just hope I can hold on to my sanity.

After a while of traveling I decide to stop walking and take a seat on one of the shorter blocks. I look around and notice that, hiding behind one of the largest blocks in the Area is the little girl from 12. Her dark, wavy hair covers her eyes in my view.

"Antoinette, right?" I whisper.

_BLANCHE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! _

_AN ALLY!? _

_YOU'RE CRAZY! _

_STOP IT RIGHT NOW! _

I don't listen to them, even though it hurts. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to silence the voices, just for now.

A gray eye peeks at me. "Blanche," she whispers.

"Hi," I whisper.

"Hm," she whispers back.

"Do you have anything?"

She shakes her head quietly.

"I have a backpack," I whisper. "We could share."

The voices scream at me to stop it and run now, but she's just a little girl. I think she's thirteen, Fritz's age. I can't just leave her with nothing.

I try to smile at her and she gives me a smile back.

_You're an IDIOT!_

_Look at this, you STUPID GIRL! _

_What the hell is your family gonna say when they see this!? They're going to FREAK! _

_Come on BLANCHE! WHAT the HELL are you DOING?! _

I cover my ears again, hoping for them to go away. It's always a hopeless dream of mine.

"Are you alright?" Antoinette asks quietly, coming out from her hiding place.

"F-Fine," I stammer.

"If you say…." She says quietly, sitting next to me.

I take a deep breath. I'm convinced that this little girl might be able to help me survive, even though part of me doubts that she'll be any help. I can't be by myself… It's too dangerous. Even if she has no survival skills or fighting ability whatsoever, she'll help keep me at least a little sane. And that's all I need to survive.

* * *

**AVOGADRO'S POV**

The Games begin with the ceremonial bang of the gong. Pride is the first to jump off his plate, like I'm positively sure he's been tirelessly waiting to do for years.

The others take off soon after, all of them running to the Cornucopia at once. I stay a distance behind them, knowing that I'll never be able to get to the supplies of the Cornucopia without getting mauled. But gosh, it's so tempting…

I run straight into Ian and I fall backwards on my butt, though he isn't nearly as impacted by the fall because he's extremely tall and I'm so much smaller than him.

I scramble to my feet just as Ian makes a gurgling noise and spits out blood, falling forward with a knife in his back. Laurentina must not have noticed me there, because she's gone when I look up.

I don't pause. I take the supplies he had in his hands and the knife in his back and run for it.

Yes, I hate the thought of what I really am doing, but I can't let guilt catch up to me right at this moment because all these Games are about is survival. Not only is it a physical game, but it's also a mental Game: I have to hold on to my knowledge and use it to the best of my ability, and I can't let my emotional game get any weaker than it already was.

So meeting with Fahrenheit will have to wait. I see the Four girl run away and decide to run the opposite direction. I run through the wooden toy box until my feet hurt and I have to stop to catch my breath.

I sit jump from block to block until I'm sitting on top of the highest one in the area and pant. Boy, I really wasn't ready for that.

But hey, I have a backpack! I have supplies, thanks to… Ian…

Gosh, no… My stomach flops when I think about the scene at the Cornucopia.

Maybe my stomach hurts just because I ran so much. Since my body had to run excessively, I feel extremely sick already, with a pounding headache. It's also probably because I spent all morning eating.

Yeah, that' sit…

But on the bright side, look at me now! I barely thought I had a hope to survive, let alone get any supplies, but I'm here!

It's not officially set in stone that I survived Day One in the Arena, but I survived the Bloodbath, which means I didn't place last. It's sure better than my statistics of winning.

I open my backpack and look inside at the supplies I have. I see a jar of some light brown substance: oh gosh, I think it's… Peanut butter! I've always wanted to try it, plus it can be an important source of protein! There's also a container of crackers, an empty canteen, and a sweatshirt that looks _huge. _

Well, it's not a lot, but I feel like I hit a jackpot at a lottery!

I put everything back and take the pencil I brought as a token out from behind my ear, where it always is unless I'm doing calculations or essay drafts.

I start writing out numbers, statistics, and my thoughts as to the minimum amount of the food I have to eat each day to survive, in hopes of making it all last, though the supplies are limited. I just have to estimate the nutrition facts for these things, so I just hope I can guess correctly.

After some writing of calculations, I hear footsteps approaching and when I look up, I see a cut-up boy with blonde hair. He has a weapon, too, a machete. He notices me on my high block and walks closer.

"Please don't kill me!" I resort to begging. "Not day one, please!"

The boy from Ten stares at me a while and then shakes his head. "I'm not going to kill you," he says. I can't say I trust him.

I stay sitting up on my block and watch. Mick puts his weapon down and holds his hands up.

"Don't be scared, Three. I'm harmless."

"Sure don't look it," I whisper, crawling closer to the edge of the block to get a better look at him.

"I am," he says.

There's a pause and then I get the balls to ask, "You want to be allies, then?"

He provides a small nod, "If you're up for it. If not, I'll leave you be."

Horray! YES! WOO! An ally! I sure as heck needed one! I try to contain my growing excitement, "Yeah, sure."

It doesn't sound as calm as I had hoped, but not as excited as I feel. He flashes me a smile. "Cool." But Mick looks like he wants to hug me, but instead, he holds out a fist, like he is slowly trying to punch me but stops short.

What the heck is he doing? I blink up at him, confused.

"I'ts a, uh, a fist bump. Have you never heard of it before?"

I shake my head. "I, uh…" gosh, this is embarrassing… "I didn't get outside a lot. Had to stay in doing school work because everyone says I'm extremely intelligent."

Mick blinks at me. "Really?" he asks. I provide a silent nod. Al lthe other kids, even in the Arena, got outside.

"That's too bad. If you win, you should go outside more. For me."

I bite my lip to keep from frowning. I don't want to think about it.

I'm sorry, but if Mick had a brain at all, he wouldn't want to think about it at all.

Considering that, if and when one of us wins, well, the other will be dead.

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates lately! I promise I'll try to be better about that. Here are the points (I have lots of calculations to make, don't I :X) **_

_**QUESTION: Who's POV of day one would you like to see in the next chapter(s)? (The Cornucopia deaths are (by District): Fahrenheit, Rhett, Lincoln, Dianne, Jocelyn, Ian, Teegan, Tierra, Reed). Sorry for those of you whole lost a favorite but that's how it turned out! **_

_**POINTS: **_

_**Kate: 138**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 148**_

_**Jess: 248**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 62**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_**Beauty. Is. .Strange: 45**_


	5. DAY ONE: Liana,Penny,&Fabian

**LIANA'S POV**

The gong rings and I take off forward, slipping past the boy from Four as he helps his District partner out by the Cornucopia. I grab a backpack but don't get lucky enough to grab a weapon before I'm noticed and have to take off running.

I run through the wood, past the blocks and all the other tributes, not looking back. Suddenly, I collide with a strong figure, but I don't recognize who it is until I hear his voice.

"I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL EVERYONE AND YOU AND-"

It's Nolan! Thank God, he was just the person I was secretly hoping to find.

"Cool it, Big Guy," I say quietly. He doesn't stop flailing as he waves around the scythe he got from the Cornucopia and shouting swear words, mostly fuck.

"YO! CALM IT, BIG GUY!"

He stops flailing and stares at me growling and with his weapon up. I put my hands up and lower my voice to a warning tone, "Calm down, Big Guy, it's just me. Chill out, cool it, it's only your friendly dru-" I'm about to say _friendly drug dealer from District 8, _but I bite my tongue just then and correct myself, "Your friend from District 8, Liana."

He puts his hands on my shoulders, crazy brown eyes darting around. He whispers, in a husky voice, "Doyouhavedrugs?"

"Sh," I tell him, and whisper, "No I don't but we'll get some soon, I promise. Just keep hanging in there, Big Guy."

He squeezes his eyes shut and nods rapidly, jittering anxiously. I keep my hands on his shoulders now and whisper, "Just hang in there, Big Guy, we'll get you something… "

He keeps nodding rapidly and quickly and looking around like he's fucking crazy. I sigh and let him go. "Come on. Let's go, Big Guy." I get my backpack and start walking forward. Nolan scurries after me.

We walk together for a while, him jittering and me trying to stay calm, just for now. We camp out that night and he volunteers to stay awake. I breathe a sigh of relief and decide to let him, before curling up as best as I can on the wooden ground and trying to sleep.

The wood hurts my head and soon I realize I will never be able to sleep like that. So I decide to instead curl up and lay my head on my District partner's lap. Though he's jittering, it's better than the ground.

"What the hell are you doing!?" he hisses, "Trying to make a move on me?!"

I actually laugh. Loudly.

"As _if!_" I giggle. "I'm a lesbian, I will never love you. No, but your pudgy lap is a lot better than the hard, wooden ground."

His brown eyes glance down at me and he seems to calm down. They flicker down until he looks me in the face. "Fine. Stay."

I smile up at him in the dark. "Okay." I yawn, already feeling tired, "Night."

He whispers back, "Night." I see a small smile spread across his lips as he looks down at me. His hand touches my head gently and my eyes flutter closed. He strokes my hair gently, though he is still shaking slightly from withdrawal. Before I have a lot more time to think about it, I doze off.

* * *

**PENNY'S POV**

The gong rings out and I take off, running away from the Cornucopia as fast as I can, just trying to not die. I suppose that's what's the Games are about, right? I runs through the scenery until I reach a fork and have to randomly choose where to go.

I pick left, always left, and take off again, feeling much too winded to run. I walk through, looking around. Suddenly, I notice a figure in front of me. She stares at me and I stare back at her. I dunno what to do, because neither of us has a weapon.

"Hello…" I say quietly.

She blinks. "You're talking to me?"

"I guess… Yeah. Sure."

"Oh." There's a pause. "Hi."

"I'm Penny. You?"

"Why would you want to know my name? Why do you care?"

I blink, not sure how to answer her.

"I mean, it's a fight to the death. I'd really prefer not to know anything about any of them. They're all going to have to die for me to live. And I don't need these people to be anything more to me than empty faces."

"Oh…" I say quietly.

She finally glances back up at my face. "Uh, I'm Josie. The whore from District 9."

"Right."

"I…I guess it's gonna be kinda hard for us to kill each other."

"That means…. We're allies?"

"Uh…" she bites her lips. "This is a terrible idea… This is a terrible thing I'm going to get myself into."

"Alright…"

"But fine. Let's be allies. But… Over this period of time… I'm going to be focused on being able to kill you. Because that's what the Hunger Games are."

I provide a small nod. Josie sighs, "I see you have nothing, too."

"Maybe we'll get something a little later."

"Maybe…" she sounds like she doesn't believe it, though.

I climb up a block and Josie joins me, as the sun sets and it becomes nighttime. The sky is dark and starry.

"Would you like to go on watch?" she asks.

"Uh, yeah. Sure." She nods and curls up in a ball and closes her eyes. I glance over and then stay on watch, looking around and taking in my surroundings.

* * *

**FABIAN'S POV**

Pride, that prick, takes control, just as expected, and starts walking to find water as soon as the cannons go off for the first day. Laurentina, that slut, follows at his heels like a puppy. Candle walks calmly beside her, leaving myself and the boy from Four to bring up the rear.

As we walk deeper into the toy box, Pride starts going on about his journey to volunteering, like we actually care. He goes on about his "humble beginnings" and his rise to fame. Nobody is even the slightest bit amused, but the girls listen, probably in hopes that they'll get to tell their stories next. Too bad Pride can't shut up to save his life and babbles about himself.

I try to tune him out but it's a little hard when he's so obnoxious, arrogant, and _loud._

I suddenly hear a new sound to focus on: humming. And it's coming from beside me. I glance over at Reginald, who doesn't take any notice of me at all but keeps on humming. It doesn't take long for me to recognize the song: _Horn of Plenty, _otherwise known as the Capitol national anthem. He stares straight forward but has a look of satisfaction on his face, because how can you _not _be happy if you've figured out a way to drone out the biggest douchebag in the Arena?

He snaps out of his daze when his hard, green eyes come into contact with mine. "Uh…" he stammers.

"Your humming is nice. Better than Pride's story," I whisper.

"What _isn't _better than Pride's story?" he asks back quietly.

I provide a silent laugh, "His bragging."

Reginald cracks a smile and says, "I'm glad at least _one _person in this alliance is rational."

"Maybe it's because I didn't grow up like they did."

"Neither did I. Or, at least, what I've heard of their stories."

"I'm an orphan. What're you in for?"

"Only child. Single Mom. Can't imagine being an orphan, though."

"It's a different life, alright. Have to be _everyone's _big brother. Or, little brother, depending on ages."

"I…I never had that worry. I've always been interested in siblings, though."

"Let's switch places for a day. Or a month. Or life."

He provides a small laugh. "If only it were that easy. And if only this wasn't a fight to the, uh, death."

I get awkward immediately, sorry I brought up such a topic. "Uh, right…"

He goes back to his walking and humming, and I decide to do the same.

And, it's really nice to drone out Pride.

We find water, walk back to the horn of plenty, and organize our stuff.

The good news? There are some plushy sleeping bags provided!

The bad news? There are two for an alliance of five.

The sky gets dark and soon the Capitol anthem plays. Reginald sings under his breath, and I just watch in bewilderment. The kills flash in the sky:

Fahrenheit Becker, District 3

Rhett Wimberly, District 5

Dianne Larson, District 6

Lincoln Frazier, District 6

Jocelyn Turner, District 7

Ian Harper, District 9

Teegan Jin, District 10

Tierra Morrison, District 11

Reed Hutchcroft, District 11

The seal flashes one last time and then fades away, and then we decide to talk about our arrangement of sleeping bags.

Pride pitches out the idea of him permanently getting one to himself (he has a reason, though, of course: he is obviously the most important part of this alliance and any injury will result in chaos for us), but all four of us snap at him about it so he pouts. We decide to have two on watch, one in one of the sleeping bags, one in another, and one being able to lay on top of the two of them together. Of course, Pride is willing to let either of the girls sleep _with_ him, even though I'm pretty sure he said he has a _girlfriend. _

Reginald and I decide to go on watch first, with Pride and Laurentina in one sleeping bag, and Candle in the other by herself.

The stars appear up on the ceiling, and though it's obvious they're not real, they're still pretty.

Reginals and I sit side-by-side against a block, watching for any signs of movement.

"Do you fish a lot?" I ask him quietly, "Considering you're from Four?"

"A little. I spent more time training, though."

"You sound committed."

"I suppose. Guess I don't have much to go back to, though."

There's a long silence before I speak up again. "I, uh… I saw what you did for your District partner."

"Huh?"

"It was considerate of you. Was she your friend, back home?"

"Not exactly. She's schizophrenic. Neither of us got talked to a lot so we always got paired together. For school stuff, and fishing partners."

"What happens when we find her, then?" I whisper, glancing over. His eyes look conflicting and I notice that he has a habit of biting the insides of his cheeks when he's in thought.

"Then maybe I'll give Pride a mirror to distract him."

The comment earns a laugh from me and he cracks, too, just a little.

"Seriously, though. What happens?"

He rips his gaze from me and looks up at the stars, leaning his head against the wall. "I dunno. I…I'll just… I'll just let whatever happens happen. Maybe I'll turn on Pride and the girls then."

"Would you really?"

"Depends how early."

I blink. "You left me out of that list."

"Fabian, I like to be an open book. Honest, even when it can be brutal. But I honestly wouldn't mind if you won the Games. If Pride won…" he glances over to where the blonde boy is sleeping, "I guess we'd all be dead, but I would sure hope the families would all be outraged. However big or small they are."

"You're saying that you're going to kill him first?"

"And the two girls, as well."

"Then what?"

"Then we keep going and kill some others. Then we turn on each other, and I'll kill you then."

I cringe, "Right." Bow and arrows would be a pretty sucky way to die.

He provides a small smile before looking back up at the sky. "Pride is ignorant to be this trusting of us."

"He is, isn't he? It'd be easy to kill him right now."

"It'd be the best time, for sure. I wouldn't dream of killing any of them when the others were awake, but it wouldn't be so bad when everyone's asleep."

"How _are _we going to sleep? It's so hard to trust people who are so determined to win, like them."

"Good question, Fabian. Wish I had an answer for you."

I provide a small shrug. Then we sit in silence.

I'm yawning every five seconds by the time we get to wake Pride and Laurentina to take watch. They glare at us as they climb out of their sleeping bag and sit where we were sitting originally. I walk over to where Candle sleeps, but she is all curled up in such a way that neither of us could possibly get in there if we tried. I look over to where he glances at us.

"She's in a cocoon," I mutter.

"No problem. You get in. I can just lay perpendicular to you."

"That won't work. You'll never sleep like that."

"Who says I need sleep?"

"Me. That's who. There should be no problem with the two of us in one. They're pretty roomy."

He blinks at me and then at the sleeping bag. "Uh… Alright…" he sounds hesitant.

I climb in and he glances over at Candle before joining me.

"Let's spare us the awkward and sleep back to back," he says quietly. Pride and Laurentina snicker, and I hear her whisper the word, "Fag."

I roll my eyes but agree silently with Reginald, rolling over on my back and closing my eyes.

It's my first night in the Hunger Games, and it's finally over with.

* * *

_**A/N: I'm giving out a free gift! And it's called, GUARENTEED SAFETY (for a period of time)! I have a poll open and I would love it if everyone voted for their favorites. The person with the most votes by, uh… *shrugs* Sometime in April will get a guaranteed spot in the final 4 or 5. SO VOTE AWAY! **_

_**CHAPTER QUESTION**__**: Which alliances do you think will be the strongest? Which will be the weakest? And which alliance/alliances do you think will tear apart first? **_

_**POINTS: **_

_**Kate: 143**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 160**_

_**Jess: 253**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 62**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 45**_

_**Here are the point values to get things! (I forgot I didn't post this before…) **_

_**BATTERY (for flashlight/lanterns): 5 **_

_**Bandages: 7**_

_**Small Canteen (Empty): 7 **_

_**Large Canteen (empty): **_

_**Blanket: 15**_

_**Pillow: 15**_

_**Functioning Flashlight: 20**_

_**Small Canteen (with water): 25**_

_**Simple foods (bags of jerky, crackers, or dried fruit): 25**_

_**Well-functioning Lantern (will not burn out): 30**_

_**Basic First-Aid Kit: 30**_

_**Socks/shoes/shirts/extra articles of clothing: 35**_

_**Iodine (to disinfect water): 40**_

_**Large Canteen (with water): 45**_

_**High-Quality Food (bread from a District, meat, broth/soup): 45**_

_**Knife: 50**_

_**Tribute's Favorite Capitol Meal: 50**_

_**Insulated (Plushy) Sleeping Bag: 55**_

_**Complex First-Aid Kit: 55**_

_**Medicine: 55**_

_**Tribute's weapon of choice: 60**_

_**If there's anything else that I've forgotten that you would like to provide for them, don't be shy to send a PM. If you don't have enough for something but would like to give it, send me a PM, too, and I'll bet I can find someone willing to split with you! **_

_**Also, there's an option of including little notes from the sponsor, too, which should always be fun. :D So, uh, please vote on my poll, and reviews are greatly appreciated! Alright, thanks for reading!**_


	6. DAY TWO: Mick, Josie, & Reginald

**MICK'S POV**

Avogadro is a cute little kid. I sure wish I wouldn't have to think things like that in a fight to the death.

He looks over, yawns, and sits up, feeling around the ground for his glasses. I smile and put them on his face for him, and he blinks sleepily up at me. "Mick…"

"Mornin', sunshine."

He blinks and sits up without saying good morning back. Guess it was a long and sleepless night for him.

"Is that your natural haircut or do you just have crazy bedhead?" he asks, yawning. My hands go to my head and I shrug, "Uh, it's what my Mom did for me, like, a month or two ago. It probably needs cut again…"

He shrugs and says, "I already _know_ mine's unkempt. But that's just how it's going to be."

"Yeah, I guess. I usually end up wearing a hat when I'm outside, anyways, so it's all covered."

His eyes fill with wonder again, just like they did before when I mentioned outside. "It's still a wonder that you've spent time outside."

"My whole life," I tell him, "There isn't a pair of pants in my closet that ain't stained with mud."

"I can't imagine it. Not at all."

"Yeah, and I can barely imagine being _inside _for a full day, let alone your whole life."

"But how can't you? I mean, a life like that's fairly simple to imagine."

"Uh…" I honestly dunno. I get confused a lot when Avogadro talks. He spent yesterday evening telling me about his plans to split the food and all kinds of stuff about calor-whosits, and all kinds of energy and stuff all about nutrients. He spewed out so many numbers so fast that I had a hard time keeping track. Today, I don't even remember a single one of them.

But, Avogadro is the brains of this alliance, so I let him do all the thinkin'. I'm the brawn, so I guess I'll be the one that primarily does the fightin'. After all, I've got a weapon.

If you asked me which of us is more important, well, I wouldn't be quite sure. 'Cause I may be able to fight, but I can't even _begin_ to do the stuff Avogadro's doing. I don't even really know what energy is or does. What's it matter to me, anyways? So maybe he's more important to helping me survive.

Then again, Avogadro's a smart little bugger, but if he were to run into the Career pack… Well, there'd be lots of carnage, I would think. He's small, and he doesn't even really have a weapon. It's my weapon, and I'm the one that's there to save 'im. Hopefully I won't have to do any savin', though.

He plucks the pencil from behind his ear and starts scratchin' down more numbers and figures and muttering to himself. I try to pick up on some of the stuff he's sayin', but it's too much for me. Way too many big words.

See, where Avogadro's spent his whole life in a classroom (which, for me anyways, would be personal hell), I didn't go to school a day past fifth grade. While I spend my life runnin' around with animals, I guess Avogadro's spent his _inside. _

I finally perk up again when I hear him mutter my name, and when I look at his figures now, it's a diagram of the Cornucopia. He looks deep in thought, grinding his teeth across his bottom lip with a crease in his forehead.

"Well, let's see now…" he mutters, "I ran… That way… Went there…" He makes a curvy line with his pencil. "Met Mick… Eh… Here… Ish…" he sounds calm, but looks agitated to be guessing at this. "And we walked… Here… Ish…"

He goes back to the beginning of the diagram, and I see all the tributes lined up in order. I find myself and find that he's right about the tributes to my right and left.

"Wow Avo!"

"Don't call me Avo. _Don't._"

"Hasn't anyone ever called you that before?"

"No. Avo isn't my name, therefore _don't call me that_."

"It's like a nickname, though!"

He blinks, "A what?" Shoot. Now that I've brought up another concept that he doesn't understand, I'll have to explain it to him: and have to try and answer all his questions.

"Nickname… Like, a pet-name."

"A _what?" _

"Well, I just keep gettin' tired 'f callin' you by the whole four sound-thingies-"

"Syllables?"

"Yeah, that. Your name's real long, and that's just makin' it shorter."

"I don't understand, why would you want to shorten it?"

"So that I only have t' say two sound-thingies-"

"_Syllables," _he says, clenching his teeth, "_Syllables." _

"Yeah, syllables, right. So I only have t' say two syllables instead 'f four."

"But _why? _Avogadro's my full name, and people should respect that, dammit!"

I blink at him. Saying something quite like that's real out-of-place for 'im.

"What?" he says, confused. The more confused Avogadro gets, the more agitated he looks.

"Th…That w's a little bit of a snotty thing t' say," I remark in a low grunt.

"…It was? But Mom says that all the time to Dad. Except it's when Dad calls me _Squirt _or _Sport, _not something like Avo. Thought it still applied."

"No offense kiddo, but your Mom sounds like a real bitch." He winces slightly when I call him kiddo, but then looks taken aback, eyes wide.

Then he just takes a breath and mutters, "Uh, none taken. Anyways, back to these diagrams…" he traces out the path I must've taken to meet with him. There's a long and awkward silence between the two of us.

"I've never had one of those _nicknames _before. Did you?"

"Sure did! Sure do, actually."

"How do you shorten Mick?" he asks, thoughtfully, and starts muttering to himself, "M'ck, uh…"

I smile, "Not like that. Like, the head of the ranch I work for, Leo, he calls me Blondie."

"Blondie…" he looks up at my hair. "Wow, that's cute!" He suddenly gets really excited and says, "Does that make me Reddy then!?"

I laugh, "Uh, that's not usually the term that's used. You're a ginger, so I'd call you Ging."

"Wow! Ging!"

"But it doesn't just have to be about hair color. I _could _call you Avo, or if you want a pet-name, Avy."

"Avy? That's SO CUTE!" he bounces on his knees excitedly. He does really remind me of a dog sometimes.

"You can just call me Avo, though. Or Ging." he grins and whispers, "Is this what rebellion feels like?!"

I have to smile back, but I just shrug. Then he hunches back over his diagrams, blocking out where the Careers may've gone based on the direction they were going, and which tributes met. He goes on about how there're so many chance-thingies that Blanche met the 12 girl and/or boy, and that Josie met the 5 girl or maybe 7 boy. He taps his pencil against his chin and thinks.

"Why're you just sittin' here? We could be out _exploring!" _ Now I'm the one that bounces impatiently.

"That's dangerous, though. It could get us killed. We could walk straight into the Careers and they'll kill both of us on the spot."

"Yeah, but we _could_ die by just sittin' here, too. They'd find us and we couldn't run away. There's always some chance-thingies-"

"_Statistics." _

"Right, that. Anyways, there are always some stat-thingies-" he blows the bangs out of his eyes, frustrated, but lets me continue: "that we're gonna die. No matter what we do or where we go, we'll always have a chance of dying. This is a fight to the death."

I stand up and smile, "Come on. You need to stop sittin' around 'nd doing smart stuff, and come do somethin' fun with me!"

He bites his lip but stands up, "O-okay…"

I grin and start walking, and he follows.

* * *

**JOSIE'S POV**

"_Mom… Dad… I'm bisexual." I cringe, looking for a reaction. My Mom looks close to tears and my Dad looks half-terrified, half-furious. _

"_You ungrateful little child," he growls at me. I step backwards and hit a wall. "YOU UNGRATEFUL CHILD!" _

"_I'm not a child anymore! I'm sixteen!"_

"_That means nothing! You're still young and you're stupid!" _

"_Why can't you please just respect me!? Just once!? I know I'm not the son you wanted and I'm not the hero you wanted in a child and I'm certainly not the Victor you've always wanted me to be, but please. Please, just put it aside and please give me this one!" _

"_What happens if you trick yourself into thinking you're in love with a girl, huh Josie? Cruelest joke I can imagine. How are you going to have kids, huh? How are we going to get grandchildren!?" _

"_You're not." I hope I don't sound as scared as I am, because I'm supposed to be strong and rebellious, not terrified and cowering. _

"_Then what? Had you been a boy this would've been so much easier." _

"_Well I'm not a boy, alright!?" _

"_We had such high hopes," my mother sighs. _

"_Hold on now." When Dad says that, something awful is about to happen to me. _

"_We can still get her back. We can." _

"_How?!" my Mom asks, looking ready to cry. _

_My Dad's eyes glint and he smiles, "Don't worry, I have a plan. Off to bed now, with both of you." _

_My Mom obeys quickly, but he grabs my shoulder and says, "Don't expect to get much sleep anymore." He chuckles lowly as I stomp off to bed. _

It ruined my life. Because the way they tried to "get me back" was by forcing me into prostitution. We didn't need it at all: we're one of the most stable families in the District, financially. But my parents thought that they could change me by making me see the realities of sleeping with both genders. And, because I "blatantly disobeyed their wishes" by not wanting children, they never gave me protection for these endeavors.

Needless to say, I've avoided some pretty narrow situations. I've already had a miscarriage to some 30-year-old and at least twenty different scares when I felt sick. Soon, I've found that I just get paranoid every morning after when I sleep with men. Women are a little better, because I guess I don't have to worry about accidentally getting pregnant.

Needless to say, my entire reputation went out the window. My friends would've stayed by my side, but they decided that since it wasn't out of a need for money, it was just because I _wanted _to be a slut. And nobody wants to be friends with a whore in general, let alone a whore that's actually slutty.

I haven't told them the real story. I haven't told _anyone _the real story, and I never will. My father would kill me. I'm not even joking, he would_ kill_ me. Maybe I should've, just so he'd put me out of my misery before the Capitol could. Because let's face it, even if I win the Games, I will never be free, and I'm doomed to a fate of sleeping with Capitolites and face an imminent death by the Capitol.

Before, I was just doomed to a life of sleeping with people from my Ditsrict and facing a fate of getting pregnant with some random guy's baby and being forced to take it anyways. Maybe _it'll _be a boy and my parents will take him instead and kick me out and I'll have to try and keep myself together by sleeping with _more_ people for _more _money and face an imminent death by starvation. Like that's much better.

So, either way, I'm screwed. Even if I found someone who loved me, I'd barely be able to return it. I'm way too shaken up for it, especially now. Not like I'm going to find anyone that I love in the_ Arena_, of all places. All I have here is Penny, and she's cute, but way too nice for my taste. Liana, from District 8, is a lesbian, but she's very sarcastic and she has the weirdest sayings.

As for the boys, a lot of them disgust me. Pride is so arrogant I want to throw up, Fabian tries too hard, Avogadro's young and he looks, like, seven, Reginald is too quiet, Luther isn't even able to love, Nolan's a druggie, Mick's too immature, and Salem is an all-around asswad.

Well, at least one thing's going my way in this Arena. Now all I have to do is prevent myself from making friends with Penny and I'll easily be able to win this thing, and face my fate when I get there.

* * *

**REGINALD'S POV**

I think that being honest is important, so I'm going to be nothing but honest: I've come to really take a liking to Fabian. Also, I don't care what Pride thinks, but sleeping with Laurentina in a sleeping bag should count as cheating on his girlfriend. I swear to God I want to murder him.

But, I'll save it for later. After all, a Career killing his allies gets him lots of sponsors, on most years, and I don't need any sponsors until later in the Games, until we run out of supplies. Then again, I guess anything I could hide from the others would be nice. Or even another sleeping bag. First off, I can't keep sleeping with Fabian. It's surprisingly comfortable, but the teasing from the others drives me _crazy. _ The other reason is just so we literally don't have to watch Pride and Laurentina act like they really love each other.

Because let's face it, as soon as my bow's on Pride's head, this alliance is _gone. _What I'd like to see is Laurentina kill Pride, because it's obvious in her eyes that she's just waiting for the perfect moment to do so. So, I guess you could say I've got everyone in this alliance figured out. Well, except for one.

Candle. She often sleeps on her own and never says more than two words unless she's asked. She's either hiding the fact that she can't kill, or she's secretly deadly and tricking all of us, just waiting for the perfect time to kill all of us. It's a devious strategy, but smart. She could win the Games, easy, if she really is hiding. If not, then she'll be easy to kill. I'll have to pay more attention to her before I make my judgment.

As for Fabian, well, he's just a sweet kid. Pretty innocent, which is surprising because he's an orphan. You'd think he'd be the most experienced with death out of all of us, as opposed to Pride who keeps claiming that he's seen things that I doubt he's ever actually seen. As for Fabian, well, he certainly wouldn't kill him. It appears that (without even trying to, mind you!) I've gained his trust. Butterflies flutter around in my stomach when I think about it, because I still haven't put my trust in _him. _

Then again, I won't be putting my trust in _anyone_.

But, if I were to kill the alliance, let's just say I'd have to hesitate before I shot Fabian. Hopefully _he'd _hesitate to throw his spear right through me. Because if I don't win, I want _him _to. Or, someone like him. Blanche.

Anyone but Pride, really.

As I stay up in the night for my watch with Fabian, I plot my attack on the others. I shoot Pride first and then Laurentina, and then Candle and then I let Fabian attempt to fight back before taking him out, too, no matter how unpleasant it is.

But that plan might not work, if I end up having one of those sentimental moments. They don't happen often, but they've been getting more and more frequent, just a moment where I forget my plan to take out Fabian and replace it with the idea of a mini-alliance. I keep re-replacing the thought and forgetting it, though.

I'll just have to focus on his chest, not his pleading brown eyes.

* * *

_**A/N: HEY PEOPLE! I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE! ESPECIALLY YOU PEOPLE WITH LOTS OF POINTS! IF YOU DON'T USE YOUR SPONSOR POINTS I'M GOING TO BE WRITING SPONSOR GAMES UNTIL THE DAY I DIE AND PAST IT! XD I really need some kind of writing inspiration to twist the plot, so PLEASE SPONSOR SOMEONE PLEASE DON'T BE SHY! Also, the tributes would all very much appreciate it. **_

_**Also, there was a TIE for guaranteed safety (for the three people that voted XD) so I'm keeping them both safe until the final… Eh, five or six or so, maybe seven. One or both is on my list for possible Victors. Keep voting though, if you haven't already, so we can get one clear winner! **_

_**CHAPTER QUESTION**__**: Which tributes/alliances would you like to see go head-to-head or turn on each other? Who would you want to die, and who would you want to win the fight? **_

_**POINTS: **_

_**Kate: 150**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 160**_

_**Jess: 253**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 62**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 45**_

_**Remember, point values are all on the A/N for the last chapter, PM's with item ideas are always welcome, and you have the option of adding a sponsor note. Please! **_

_**Thanks for reading! ~**_


	7. DAY THREE:Josie,Fabian,Avogadro,&Liana

**JOSIE'S POV**

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. _

God, that's annoying.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. _

What _is_ that?

I sit up and rub my eyes sleepily. Penny yawns and her eyes are following a silver object as it floats down to the ground right in front of her.

"Eh?" I ask, trying to form words. Guess my voice is the last part of me to wake up.

"Sponsor," Penny responds, holding back another yawn.

Finally, I think to smile. "Penny!" I croak out happily. "Sponsor!"

She looks over, her eyes lighting up suddenly. "Sponsor!" she says, reaching for her glasses. She slides them on her face and we both crawl over to the parachute. I have to admit, this is surprising. After all, I'm the girl from District 9, and she's the girl from District 5. Not Careers, not even close. But one or both of us must've done something right, to get anything from a sponsor.

The two of us scramble to the parachute. God, we're both acting like such idiots. But we're tired, who can blame us!?

Penny lifts the lid off the silver parachute and we look inside.

Little bags of food.

I have to admit, since it is in human nature to hope, I was seriously hoping for something like a pillow, but I'll take food. In fact, I'm glad it's food, really. At least I know we won't starve, even if that's for a little while.

There are bags of jerky and a pack of crackers in there for us.

Penny smiles up at me and I grin back down at her, pulling the bags out of the container. I've always wondered how they disposed of parachutes in the Arena. After all, I've only seen them on the television, with the Careers getting sponsor supplies and leaving the canisters behind. The parachutes weren't shown again after that.

This is so exciting! It's fairly rare that someone from the outlying Districts gets items from a sponsor: and Penny and I just did!

That oughta show my parents what I'm capable of!

They're just so strict and unhappy with me that they'd probably make an inappropriate joke about my body, anyways. That's their favorite thing.

The thought gets me down but I don't let it keep me there. After all, I have an ally that's wonderful, and now we have food to eat! That's always a positive, right?

Things are finally looking up for both of us. Thank God.

* * *

**FABIAN'S POV**

We're greeted by a delightfully pleasant surprise. Finally, a sponsor.

Pride jumps up. "A sponsor! Oh, I knew they'd come for me!"

Reginald looks over at me and cracks a half smile. "That's a joke," he says to Pride.

The blonde boy looks over and scowls at us. "Oh, please. Who in their right minds would sponsor _you?_"

"We're not losers, Pride. Not here," Reginald points out, staying very calm and not even showing a little bit of emotion. I really have to commend him for that.

"You'll always be losers." Pride walks closer to the parachute but I find myself close to exploding. "You have no idea who that's for! We're not idiots, Pride. We have just as much a chance of winning as you! Reginald could have an arrow through your skull before you can even count to ten!"

I feel a warm pressure on my hand as Reginald squeezes it, helping me zone back into reality. Just as fast as he took my hand, he lets it go. Laurentina bursts out laughing, "The twats are in LOVE!"

I heave a sigh. I never should've spoke up. Now both of us are going to get hell.

But once again, the District 4 boy comes to my rescue, keeping his calm demeanor perfectly in tact.

"We could say the same thing to you and Pride."

Laurentina looks shocked. Nobody's ever talked back to her like that before.

"That's nothing, you twat, and you know it."

He smiles. "Really? Because you did sleep together. And I definitely heard him purring in your ear. Where was he touching you under there, anyways?"

"Nowhere." She scowls.

"Oh, really?"

"I have a girlfriend, asswad!" Pride screams, holding up his sword.

Reginald puts up his bow. "Easy there, bud. Remember, this is a bow and arrows and all you have is a sluggish sword."

Laurentina has a knife in her palm and I hold on tightly to my sword.

"Wait a second…" Pride says, lowering his weapon, "Where the hell is Candle!?"

She's disappeared.

"She borrowed one of my knives and went!" Laurentina whines, "That bitc-"

"That what?" The District One girl jumps off the tree branch she was sitting on. But when we all see her, we're all shocked. She chopped off her hair. She has short hair.

"Here," she gives Laurentina her knife back. "Thanks."

"You cut your hair off!" Pride squeaks.

"Yes, I did. It's not that short. I was tired of having it so long and I'm here to win. Now put your weapons down and let's open our gift."

Reginald smiles slightly. "Come on, Fabian," he whispers, as we go to look in the container. Pride pulls it out and says, "YEAH! It's my very own sleeping bag, finally!"

"Look again," Reginald says. He points to the bottom of the sleeping bag where the hammer and fish hook symbols are printed. It's for us.

"Aw, the pussies finally have a new sleeping bag to share! So cute!"

I pick it out of his hands and say, "Actually, it's for us to separate." I like sleeping with Reginald's warmth, but this will finally get the others off our backs, and that's all I need right now.

"Thank God, too," Reginald says, "I was really starting to get annoyed with the bastard from Two."

"Isn't everyone!?" Pride howls. I scowl, trying not to look hurt. Then we walk off to start hunting.

* * *

That night, Reginald and I are on watch first. I don't look him in the eyes, as the other three doze off. There's a long silence between us. I shouldn't be getting this hurt. I have to kill him, eventually.

But I can't help how depressed this makes me feel.

"You know I didn't mean it, don't you?"

"You said you tell the truth all the time."

"A couple of well-constructed lies work, as well."

"What?"

"Don't worry. I like you, Fabian. I won't lie. Yet."

I nod, trying not to feel relieved.

There's a pause. "I think it's time to wake up Pride."

"Yeah, good idea."

We wake him up and Luarentina, then take our separate sleeping bags.

"Night," he gives me a small wink and a smile. His green eyes are the last thing I see before I fall asleep.

* * *

**AVOGADRO'S POV**

I wake up to loud laughing. "Av, wake up!" Mick shouts.

I reach around and grab my glasses, then sit up and put a finger over his mouth. "Sh. Wouldn't want to attract-" The next word was supposed to be _tributes, _but I hear a familiar beeping that gets me to shut my mouth.

Silver parachutes! THREE OF THEM!

I wake up immediately, feeling an electric charge of happiness through my body. I let out a loud laugh myself, "Holy heck!"

Mick laughs and says, "Thought that'd wake you up real quick!"

"Uh, really quickly," I correct. His horrific grammar is really astounding to me sometimes.

I'd never like to attempt reading something Mick wrote, because if he can't even talk straight, it seems impossible that he can get any kind of logical thought written on paper.

Plus, I've been informed by Mick's interview that he didn't go to school past fifth grade.

Well, anyways, here we are now, getting three silver sponsor parachutes.

I have no idea which of us won the favor of the sponsors, and I have no idea when it happened, either. Maybe it's was Mick's training score: an 8. Maybe I reached out to the Caiptol's geniuses by not talking like a complete idiot in my interview. Then again, my escort wasn't so happy with how it went.

_The interviewer's name is Yin Kozart. This year, his hair's white with black, shaggy bangs. His eyes are dark gray, almost black, but not quite the black of his pupil. They're framed by big black glasses. He wears a dark suit and a white tie, with shiny black dress shoes. _

_I've been forced to wear a black shirt and gray pants with a pink bowtie tied uncomfortably around my neck. I'm ready to torture the Capitol. I'm mad enough at them already._

_He leans back in his chair. "So, Avogadro-" _

"_Uh, excuse me." The microphone is held to my mouth. I express my concern, "Uh, you sound especially nasal and annoying today, compared to how you sounded on my television. Does the media do wonders or are you getting a cold? If you're getting a cold, might I suggest you take some-" _

"_Ahem, I think my allergies are acting up just a little bit, but it's all under control, I assure you. Now, back on topic-" _

"_Uh, your tie isn't straight. Did your styling team even put any thought into this!?" I reach over and help him adjust his tie so that it's as straight as I can get it without a compass. _

"_I'm sure they did," he says with a light, insincere laugh. The audience howls with laughter._

"_Yeah, they're not very good at that. Anyways, uh, please, go on." _

_He growls, "What a nice young man you are." _

_I smile, "Oh, yes! I've been called adorable by my parents many times and I've been called lovable by so many other people, including our escort!"_

_Yin keeps on a completely straight face. "You're just charming." _

_I don't even care that it's sarcastic, I'll take it for all it's worth. "Wonderful, now I'm charming, as well!" _

_I'm angry at the Capitol. And, though I can't outwardly say that without getting a target on my back, I can still look innocent while secretly expose them for the clowns they are. It's one of my many master plans, though few of them work. This one will. It already is. _

"_Of course." _

_I grin. By now, the audience is howling with laughter._

"_Anyways, back on track. Please. What is your favorite thing about your life back home?" _

"_I don't do a lot. I study and interact with my parents' friends. I don't have a favorite part." _

"_Good for you." He's still not amused. "Anything else you would like to say before the end of the interview?" _

"_Yes." I grin, "Your sight must suck. Those are some thick glasses." _

_My buzzer rings and he smiles, standing up and holding up my hand, "Avogadro Bismarck, everyone!" the audience howls and cheers._

Yes, if I gained sponsors, that's why. Then again, those government officials seemed fairly interested in me, as well, as they were guiding me to my stylists.

I open the first can and find iodine. "YES! IT'S IODINE! GOOD OLD LETTER I!" I get really excited. Now we can have safe water. Who knows what other tributes can only dream of having something like this?!

I look back inside and find a lantern. "Mick! A lantern!" He grins, trying to match my excitement (which I appreciate). "Wow! Way cool, Av! I think it w's your interview."

"Yours was alright. Though I was bored and didn't pay much attention."

He sighs but smiles anyways, "Uh, right."

"Well, what else did we get!?"

Suddenly he hits me in the face with something and I squeak. But it's a soft something. It's a pillow.

"Aw!" he grins, "That was cute!"

My face turns red. "Yeah…"

Then he hands me a blanket. "Lookie, Gadro! We have a place to sleep!"

I smile, feeling like I do on my birthday, but even more thrilled because these are things that will help us survive.

Mick reaches into the smallest one and pulls out something small and silver.

"It's a watch!" he says, happily, opening it up. He stares at it with a blank face. "That…That's not a watch. This here's trash."

"Let me take a look." I pick it up from his hands and actually let out a squeal. I jump up and bounce around. "NO! MICK, IT'S A COMPASS! IT'S A COMPASS! WE CAN FIGURE OUT WHERE WE ARE, KIND OF! A COMPASS!"

He looks at me blankly. He doesn't understand the significance. But that's alright. He soon matches my excitement again and says, "We're sure going to sleep good tonight, Av!"

"Sure are!" I'm so happy I don't even correct his grammar.

* * *

**LIANA'S POV**

I wake up to Nolan running toward a block, hunching over, and throwing up. He's losing it.

"Come on, Big Guy. You're alright." I walk over to him.

"God, I-I-I-" he takes a big breath in, "I need them!"

He forcefully puts his hand on my shoulder, eyes darting around crazily. "I need it!"

"You're alright, Big Guy!"

"M-My chest is tight!" he inhales deeply.

"You're just imagining things." I bite my lip, "Stay with me, Big Guy."

Sweat runs down the side of his face. He jerks his hand out, shakily putting my hand on his chest. His heart beats hard and fast.

"I h-haven't slept for _days. _I'm losin' it!"

That's the truth. "Stay with me. You'll be alright."

Suddenly, we hear footsteps approaching.

"You can fight whoever it is, Big Guy-" he shoves his scythe in my hands and hides behind me. I can't tell why until I notice who it is. The towering boy from Seven. Luther.

His bangs are plastered to her forehead with sweat and he holds up an axe he got at the Cornucopia.

"On three we roll out of the way," I whisper to Nolan. He runs toward us and I shout, as fast as I can, "One, two, three!" Then I duck and roll and when I look up Luther throws his axe through my ally's chest. Delayed reaction time.

A cannon roars out and Luther turns to me. I hold up the scythe, stepping backwards as fast as I can. He retrieves his axe and holds it up. He looks me harshly in the eyes and growls, "Go."

I don't have to be told twice. I take off running, carrying our backpack and Nolan's scythe with me. I don't have time to feel any kind of emotions, not now. I run until I physically can't anymore, then climb up onto a block, sit, and wheeze.

Suddenly, my thoughts are all forgotten when I see a silver parachute floating down and landing right next to me. When I open it up, I find broth. I find broth! I have broth! Delicious! I take a couple simple spoonfuls of it: can't eat too much at once: and eat some of the jerky I found in my backpack. Then I take a tiny bit of water from the full canteen I found in the backpack and drink. I'll have to go looking for a stream tomorrow.

The sun sets and that dreadful Capitol anthem begins to play. I make myself watch the holograms up in the sky, and see the one lonely fact up there. That one insane, crazy, addict face from District 8.

The boy from my District… My friend… My number one customer… He's dead.

Nolan Rinehart is dead.

I surprisingly don't feel emotional. I don't feel sad at all, and I won't cry. He was asking for it. He was going insane, anyways. It was better and I know it and therefore I'm not sad.

In fact, I'm baffled. That Seven boy spent his interview saying how he screwed up he is and that he won't leave any tribute alive and unharmed.

And yet, he let me go.

Luther Pultzer let me go.

I'm alive.

* * *

_**A/N: Thank you for all your sponsorship! The tributes all appreciate it! :D Keep it coming! **_

_**Chapter Question: Which three or four points of view do you want to see in the next chapter? **_

_**POINTS: **_

_**Kate: 125**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 60**_

_**Jess: 133**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 62**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 32**_


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